The time Benjiro and Tomakita spent in the treehouse before Tomakita’s planned surgeries was filled with pampered luxury. They did several day trips by Land Rover, surrounded by resort staff. They were driven to waterfalls, had lunch prepared on tables covered with white linen, ate in the shade of giant trees, and generally observed life going on around them.
When the time came for Tomakita to return for his procedures, Benjiro still didn’t know the location of the facility where they would take place, and his plans during Tomakita’s recovery had been made for him.
“Benji-san, you know by now this is something I must do on my own,” Tomakita told him again, the evening before they would both leave the treehouse. “We will meet again in Japan, after I have recovered, before the New Year.”
Benjiro had initially been frustrated, but this eventually turned into resignation, and later, to a veiled sadness. “As you say, Toma-san. I will go back to work in order to make the wait go faster, but I still wish it was different.”
“I am sorry to disappoint you, Benji-san. It is as it must be.”
The next day separate Land Rovers came to take them each their own directions.
“Benji-san, do not be disillusioned by saying goodbye, for if we never did so, we would never know the soaring joy of once again saying hello,” Tomakita told his lover.
“I love you, Toma-san,” Benjiro replied. He’d never spoken these words to Tomakita.
Hong Kong Meetup
Benjiro’s direction took him to Hong Kong from India. He and Steven had been keeping in touch since Benjiro’s reunion with the Ramos family. He knew it was one stop that Steven and Konnor would make on their summer trip together. He decided that he’d find out when they would be there, and if he hadn’t missed them, stay there until they arrived.
One thing both he and Steven had done when they met again was sign up for the new, free, Rocketmail e-mail service that had been introduced recently. A wealthy American housewife on an Asian cruise told him about the new, free service. She said it was the way she kept in touch with all the important organizations and people that constantly needed her input while she was trying to relax and enjoy life.
It was quite amazing to both he and Steven that this was a free service, and since they both moved all over the Asian sea for their work, they were doubly amazed that their mail found them anyplace they could find a computer with internet service. At any rate, when he found out when he’d be available he immediately sent a note to Steven via the treehouse hotel’s computer.
Benjiro didn’t get a response until he landed in Hong Kong, a week later.
B,
Konnor and I will be in Hong Kong the morning of the 24th. Meet us for fish and chips at the Chippy on Queensway.
S
Benjiro would be in Hong Kong a week prior to that, but he was fine playing tourist. He would go back and forth between Hong Kong and Macao. He had not spent any time in Hong Kong since the sovereignty transition from Britain to China became official, and his plan was to take his time observing the differences, if any, immediately apparent. Macao was to experience a similar transition in a couple of years, so going between the two territories would be interesting and possibly educational.
Upon arriving, Benjiro traveled to a small but clean family-owned bed and breakfast he’d frequented in the past and checked in. The changes so far were subtle, with the most apparent being places where the British Union flag previously flew. It was replaced by the flag of the People’s Republic of China and Hong Kong’s SRC flag. The money was the same, the road signs were the same, and the restaurants had not all changed overnight.
He talked with whoever spoke English. Much of the gossip was focused on the failure of the British to avoid the transition in the first place and secondarily, fears that the Chinese government would change everything, reenacting hard communist rule and vacuuming the wealth from the island back up to the mainland. However, when he probed a bit, it seemed that everyday life had changed little for the few that were willing to share their opinions with him. Who knows if the opinions were true feelings or couched in the fear that Chinese spies were about, ferreting out remaining dissidents. But still, it seemed that the truth was Hong Kong was successful and the Chinese were not wanting to make that success stumble.
Benjiro’s next cruise was to leave after Steven and Konnor embarked on the next leg of their trip headed to Taipei. He visited the Hong Kong Observatory, where meteorological and magnetic observations, a time service based on astronomical observations, and a tropical cyclone warning service were housed. Interested in astronomy since he was a child, this was his primary reason for visiting, but the list of “Friends of the Observatory,” which was a new organization, made him immediately melancholy when he found his father’s name prominently displayed.
After the brief general guided tour, he gave up on the rest of the detailed visit he’d planned and decided instead to make one other stop in Hong Kong and then head to Macau.
He would visit the newly rebuilt Kewloon Walled City park. It had been a no-man’s land for nearly a hundred years, attracting organized crime Triads as well as refugees, especially from the Guangdong area when the People’s Republic of China was formed.
The next couple of days were spent learning about Macau and its history. Macau was about to be officially reintegrated into Chinese sovereignty, even though they had largely been a Chinese territory under Portuguese administration since the mid-seventies, and he’d yet to spend time in the territory.
There was a long history of the area being central in the opium wars in the early history between China and Portugal, and more recently, their economy was financially strong based on a legalized gambling industry, heavy tourism, largely from China, and the garment industry and financial services.
Benjiro had it in the back of his mind that organized crime and opium were two things that Steven was very interested in on this trip, even if his friend pretended that it was simply a working summer vacation with his son.
Konnor Arrives in Hong Kong
When Steven and Konnor arrived in Hong Kong they were hungry. It was late morning and Konnor was feeling a bit boat-bound with few playmates and a dad that was busy most of his waking hours. He was now really glad his mom had packed the extra books. At any rate, they both needed some time on land, and Steven was going to make the most of the twenty-four hours they had on shore.
On the way to the Chippy, Steven reminded his son, “So the three things we talked about doing here, other than hanging out with our friend Benjiro, were seeing the horse races, hiking Victoria Peak, and visiting a wax museum. You’ve seen some information on each of them. Think about what your top priorities are over lunch. Maybe I can find a local paper in English so we can check on when things are open.”
“Okay, Dad, but I think I already know. I wanna see the horses and the wax museum for sure,” Konnor answered.
It was sort of the answer he’d expected. Hiking up a hill was pretty normal stuff in Zambales, so it made sense this was Konnor’s lowest priority.
Neither one of them had ever seen a horse race, so he was glad that was top of the list. The wax museum, eh, he could take it or leave it, but the truth was it might be the most educational thing on the list for this port.
They heard Benjiro call their names as they rounded the corner to the Chippy. “Steve, Konnor! Over here!” He was just beyond the fish-and-chip shop sitting on the very edge of a bench two other, much older, men were sharing with him. They were both enjoying a roll-your-own cigarette and when Steven got close enough, Benjiro popped off the bench to meet them so they didn’t have to come any closer to the blue haze around the old guys.
As Steven and Benjiro greeted each other like the brothers-of-choice that they were, Konnor took out his instamatic and snapped a picture of the two toothless smokers on the bench. Steven made Konnor shake hands with Benjiro and then directed him into the Chippy to get something to eat before one of the old guys got aggravated with the unwanted a
ttention by a tourist.
“Have you ever had English fish and chips, Konnor?” Benjiro asked.
“I’ve had fried fish and French Fries before, does that count?” Konnor replied.
“Well was it served rolled up in newspaper and sprinkled with vinegar?” came the follow-up question.
“Newspaper? No, we don’t eat in newspaper at home,” Konnor answered, making a face that looked like he’d bitten into something distasteful. “Why do the English eat in a piece of newspaper? Are they poor?”
“That’s a good question, Konnor. I’m not sure I know the answer, but you might be right: eating fish and chips in newspaper might have started as an economic necessity and turned into a popular custom,” Steven answered.
Chippy’s happened to be one of the more popular fish and chips places in Hong Kong, with Chinese and English alike. Konnor put both hands on the edge of the counter and stared at the kitchen as they slammed the baskets out of the hot grease and emptied contents into waiting pans. He literally smelled the heat and the potatoes cooking.
The person that filled the orders whipped sheets of newsprint off the waiting stack, masterfully rolled them into a cone and folded it to slow the grease as it soaked through the newsprint. Then he went to the chips pan, threw salt all over the place and took a large scoop of golden French fries and filled the rolled paper three quarters full.
By this time Konnor was drooling and his mouth had gone slack watching the restaurant live theater. Finally, the order filler laid two chunks of battered fried fish on top of the chips and asked, “Vinegar, tartar sauce or ketchup?”
The spicy smell of vinegar reminded Konnor of home and his mom’s cooking. “Vinegar and tartar sauce, please!”
The beer-battered fish was fresh and flakey and the chips were hot, so managing the package and eating his lunch took all of Konnor’s attention.
Steven and Benjiro spent their time getting caught up. Benjiro talked about Tamakita’s medical procedures and how secretive he was with the entire process.
“It’s not like we’ve merged households and become an old married couple, or even like I expect that, but we have been very close for more than three years. Now all of a sudden I’m supposed to disappear when he goes through this life-saving set of procedures and leave him to recover on his own,” complained Benjiro.
“Well it sounds like ‘on his own’ might be a bit of a misnomer, don’t you think?” Steve replied gently. “Maybe he isn’t comfortable with you seeing him in such a frail state since he’s quite a bit older than you.”
“Yeah, I know he’s wealthy and has the best medical attention money can buy. But that’s part of what lovers do for each other, right? They take care of each other in times of distress.” Benjiro didn’t meet Steven’s eyes when he said this, but Steven could tell it bothered him tremendously.
“Don’t sweat it, Benji. He’s told you to meet him in Japan before the holidays. It’ll all work out,” Steven said.
Changing the subject, Benjiro continued by telling Steven a bit about his past week, including what he’d learned about the Triads and the opium wars. He’d done a lot of reading in the museums and gardens and again, chatted with anyone that knew English.
When they were all satisfied with their lunch, Konnor started to hint that maybe it was time to think about going to see the horses.
“What horses are we talking about, Konnor?” Benjiro asked.
“They do horse-racing here, Tito Benjiro. There’s a jock club and everything,” Konnor told him in all earnestness.
Smiling, Benjiro answered, “Now that might be something I’d be interested in seeing. Do you mind if I tag along?”
“Of course not, tito. We were expecting you to come with us.” And Konnor grabbed Benjiro’s hand and dragged him out of the Chippy, anxious to get going, even if he didn’t know which direction to go.
The three of them took a bus to the Sha Tin Racecourse and when they arrived, Konnor pointed out the prominent new Hong Kong Jockey Club sign.
With an afternoon of watching horses run around the track, wandering about, getting as close to the horse stalls as he could, munching on a few sweet and savory snacks, and seeing several winning horses pass through the winners’ photo booth, Konnor finally asked, “So what happens to the horses that don’t come in first?”
Steven and Benjiro looked at each other and thought, Stir-fry, but Steven answered, “Oh, I suppose they go home without one of those itchy flower wreaths around their neck. Maybe they get to try again, who knows?”
Konnor thought about that for a minute and decided it made sense, replying, “Just because they don’t win a race doesn’t mean they aren’t good horses. Maybe they’re good at other things.”
“Did you want to take any pictures here, Sport? Maybe it’s time to go to Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum?” Steven asked.
“I got my pictures, Daddy. I think we can go now. Anyway, the horses might be getting tired,” Konnor answered.
It took two busses and a transfer to get to the wax museum, situated at the Peak. The last bus took almost an hour, and when they arrived Steven had to wake Konnor up as he’d fallen asleep. As dusk was falling, they made their way into the museum, where Konnor’s favorite was Albert Einstein.
Finally done in from the day of sightseeing, the three of them decided to find dinner. “Let’s find dinner near my B&B, then you are welcome to sleep there until you need to head back to your ship,” Benjiro offered.
“That sounds fine, Benji. I think Konnor might like a bed that doesn’t rock for one night,” Steven answered. “You know what? I’d like is a burger. We don’t get burgers on the ship.”
“There’s a place close to where I’m staying that’s got good burgers, according to the guide in my room. There was one called the Everyman Burger that sounded like it would feed all three of us,” Benjiro suggested, laughing as he remembered the description.
Two more bus rides got them within walking distance of the burger haven, and Konnor was practically sleep-walking.
Lost in Hong Kong
“Here we are, guys, Burger Haven.” Benjiro indicated the neon-covered restaurant in front of them. “Where’s Konnor?”
Steven turned around and panicked. Konnor was nowhere to be seen.
Both men started retracing their steps, shouting Konnor’s name every few seconds. The street which looked brightly lit and friendly five minutes ago now turned sinister. Steven smelled the rotting garbage as he rushed into the back alley that collected trash from the surrounding shops. He pitched the lids off cans, flipped greasy boxes over and backhanded a large rat that had the nerve to hiss at him as he hoisted himself up to peer into a large, rolling metal trash bin.
Benjiro rushed from person to person, asking the same question: “Have you seen a sleep- looking Filipino eight-year-old wearing a blue tee shirt, shorts and a Hong Kong Jockey Club hat?” He asked it in English, Japanese and Tagalog, but no one replied in the affirmative.
The two men hadn’t gotten far when they ran into a policeman. Steven couldn’t make himself be understood in English because he was so flustered, so Benjiro, who was more used to using English on cruise ships, explained how Konnor had gotten separated from them. “It was only a four-block walk from where the bus let us off. I know he was tired, but we didn’t realize he’d fallen behind,” Benjiro said.
When the policeman understood what had transpired, he blew his whistle three times. Steven covered his ears, grimacing, and was just about ready to ask what the hell good he thought that would do when he saw another policeman coming on the run from a block away. Turning around, he saw another coming from the opposite direction and realized that must have been a police distress call.
Within five minutes the police had organized four teams to fan out from the bus stop, toward their burger destination, and ask every person along the way if they’d seen a kid with a Hong Kong Jockey Club hat. Ten minutes later they’d found the hat.
#
&nbs
p; “We both saw what we thought was the kid’s father pull him into his car and pull away. I saw the hat get knocked off as he ducked to get into the car. I ran over and picked it up, waving it as they broke into traffic,” one of the Australian-sounding witnesses said. “I guess that was the reason they seemed to ignore me?”
“Did you see anything violent?” the policemen they’d run into first asked.
“You know, it didn’t strike me as friendly, but to be honest, mostly I noticed the hat and thought the kid was gonna be mad that he’d lost such a cool-looking new hat,” the Australian tourist said. He handed the hat to the policeman.
“Is there anything you can tell us about the car?” the policeman asked.
“Well, it was dark-colored. I think it was a Jaguar? Black, blue, emerald green, something like that. And it had two plates on the back. One above the other. The first letter of the bottom one was Z.”
The policeman answered, “Okay, please give a full description of everything you can remember to my colleague,” and then pulled Steven over to talk with him.
“The description of the car is quite vague, but we will put out a bulletin,” he told them. “May I ask you, do you have any connections to the Chinese Embassy? Or any embassy in Hong Kong, for that matter?”
“I don’t understand the question...does that have something to do with finding my son faster?” Steven asked.
“No, but the car that this witness describes seems to have diplomatic plates. If it’s true, that will narrow down the search but complicate it considerably, because we have no authority over such people or cars.” He watched as Steven and Benjiro just looked at each other, bewildered at the implications of not only a kidnapping but one purportedly carried out by some person with access to a diplomatic car. “We’ll get busy developing a list of cars that might fit the description.”
An hour later Steven sat in a branch of what a few weeks ago was the Royal Hong Kong Police Force, now simply called the Hong Kong Police Force. The group of police questioning people had gotten little additional information, but they had confirmed the double license, make, and color of the car.
One Fish, Two Fish, Big Fish, Little Fish_Silver Dawn Page 6
